


Afterparty

by Platinumroyal



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 03:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16339061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Platinumroyal/pseuds/Platinumroyal
Summary: He was alone, after all.//yuzuru birthday fic





	Afterparty

He awakes with a jolt, from a nightmare he cannot recall.

This isn't uncommon for him, not in the least—uninterrupted sleep was a mirage for him, something he ponders every now and again, while curled up in the thin excuse for a blanket that he had been supplied with a few years ago. If not some ambiguous night terror casting him out of sleep, then the shouts and stomps of his commanders marching through the halls was enough to do it. He's come to accept it, by now. He has to be ready for training at an ungodly hour in the morning anyways, and he's a light sleeper to begin with.

The dormitory is still seeped in shadows, as the sun has not risen high enough to provide any light. It's early, then. Earlier than he needs to be out of bed. Or perhaps it was still late? He fumbles for his glasses on the makeshift nightstand beside him.

It's 2 in the morning, according to the digital clock across from him. Not the best time to be awake.

He slides his glasses off of his face, placing them back on the nightstand, and shirks under his blanket. This was going to be a long three hours, if he couldn’t get back to sleep. He squeezes his eyes shut again, and hopes in vain that sleep overtake him.

Unfortunately, no one ever has his best interests in mind. Not any of the stupid commanders in this hellhole, not those greedy caretakers ( _as if he could even justify calling them that_ ) at the orphanage, not any god up in some superficial heaven, and not his revolting parents who entangled him in this mess in the first place. And so, minutes pass, and sleep does not greet him.

He sits up in bed, careful to mind his head of the bunk above him, and weighs his options. He could simply lie in bed, passing the hours until it was time for him to officially wake up; he could grab his favorite book, one that he has read through nearly a hundred times already, and give it another pass; or, he could try his luck with the only person he could even remotely trust in the world.

It's not the hardest decision he's ever had to make.

"Hey, are you up?" he tries, staring up at the bunk. There is naught but silence in the room. "Yuzuru?"

His roommate is as much of a light sleeper as he, so the fact that he's not responding is a bit concerning.

"Heeey," he says, a bit louder. He knocks on the underside of the bunk with his fist. "Do you wanna talk?"

No response.

He pouts slightly, and crosses his arms. "Don't make me come up there!"

Still nothing. Well, he did warn him.

He slides out of bed, grabbing his glasses once again, and scurries (as much as he can, for 2 in the morning) up the ladder. Hanging on with one hand, he sets his other on his hip.

"Good morning, Your Highness~. I've never seen you this bad! Are you losing your edge or something~?"

The empty bed says nothing back to him.

He blinks, once or twice, and rubs the sleep out of his eyes with his bare forearm. Was he still asleep, or something? Yuzuru wasn't one to break any rules, and sneak out in the middle of the night. There was no way he had up and disappeared—

Oh.

_Oh._

It dawns on him, like someone slowly dripping a cold bucket of icewater over his head, and then overturning the whole thing in one fell swoop. His nightmares hadn’t woken him up, after all.

This  _was_  his nightmare. It was reality.

The corners of his blanket are neatly tucked into the mattress, like the bed had been untouched, and hadn’t been slept in by the same boy—now young man—day after day and year after year. Clinical. Professional. If he didn’t know better, he would assume that some cleaning staff had swung by and remade the bed, like this was some hotel ( _not that he had ever been in one_ ). But he knows the people who run this place, and he knows Yuzuru, and he knows who is ultimately responsible for this.

All of his meager belongings are gone, too. Yuzuru lived without excess, and he would be surprised if Yuzuru even had enough to fit into a whole suitcase or duffel bag. But the telltale signs of him weren't there; most notably, the tiny stuffed bear that Yuzuru had slept with since the day he arrived ( _it was given to him by someone important, or something. He can’t remember, and it doesn’t matter now_ ).

The world feels strangely empty. It always had, but it definitely had become more barren since yesterday.

And for the first time, in a long time,  _he_  feels empty.

There was nothing for him to cling on to. Nothing to carry with him to his grave, once his body gives out from exhaustion or a gunshot or from the stark lack of purpose in his life. He thought he had found something, someone, that he could keep with him. If nothing else, someone to stand by his side throughout this absolute mess he called his life. And like all the rest, that person was gone. Had abandoned him, just when he thought he could open the door to his heart and let him in.

The emptiness mutates into a heavy bitterness, sinking deep like a stone into the pit of his stomach. Was it finally time to accept that no one would ever want him? That there was no one on this godforsaken planet who would want to stay near him—even for a moment? Everyone was the same. All disgusting people, conforming to those around them and refusing to carve their own destiny. He couldn’t trust anyone but himself.

( _Can he really even trust himself?_ )

He has to trust himself. There is no one else.

He remembers, fleetingly. Sliding down the ladder, landing on calloused feet, he sinks down to the floor on his hands and knees and pulls out a cardboard box. It is one of those cheap food containers that were used in the mess hall, not meant to preserve food as much as hold it. He unfolds the lid, fingertips trembling slightly.

Inside is a single slice of cake. It is nothing notable; white frosting is smeared haphazardly onto some overly-moist vanilla cake. While the cake itself is far from special, it was worth the world in what he had to do to get his hands on it. He spent weeks tracking the shifts of the guards, sneaking out of his room late at night just to monitor their whereabouts. Only the higher-ups are allowed treats like this. If anyone had found out that a brat like him had snuck out a slice, he would be in a world of trouble. And of course, the person he had gone to all the trouble for had up and left him without saying a word.

Yuzuru mentioned his birthday offhandedly once, never intending to make him feel accountable for any degree of celebration. And yet, something had messed with his head ( _and perhaps his heart as well_ ) and clouded his judgement enough to do something like this. What was he, a child? Some schoolgirl buying Valentine's Day chocolate for her hapless crush? It was disgusting.

He didn’t think to grab any utensils at the time, so he's stuck with his hands now. The cake is overly sweet when he shoves a handful into his mouth. More sugar than his body has come to tolerate. He'd be damned if he wasn't going to lick the container clean, though. He feels an odd surge of vindication, fueled by bitterness, that he gets this whole slice of cake all to himself.

When he goes to wipe his mouth off, his hand comes back more wet than it should. He licks his fingers, and finds that the cake has gone from disgustingly sweet to slightly salty. He stares back up at the empty bunkbed, as if he'll find his only friend staring back down at him.

"Happy birthday."

**Author's Note:**

> it's still yuzuru's birthday where i live, so happy birthday honey!! 
> 
> this was inspired by a friend's headcanon of when yuzuru finally up and leaves the military training camp. i couldn't stop thinking about it, so here is ~1300 words of vague ibara angst
> 
> find me at @harmonyleaf on twitter, as always!


End file.
